


Sentinel/Firefly-ish fusion

by liz_fic



Series: EAD 2019 [1]
Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefly Fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 16:47:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17811716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liz_fic/pseuds/liz_fic
Summary: Simon and Naomi are descendants of the nine and rulers of their own provinces. Jim is an unbonded sentinel, or so he thinks. Blair was presumed dead but is ready to be found. EAD 2019, so this is incomplete and may or may not be finished any time soon. Read at your own risk.





	Sentinel/Firefly-ish fusion

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally my second attempt at writing to spec for an auction. I found out that I don't do well writing to spec. The first one probably won't ever see the light of day, but I still love the overall idea of this story and hope to finish it at some point. Just in case-- there is a brief mention of a young woman being assigned as a 'servant' for nefarious purposes, but none of those purposes happen.

He knew it was wrong, knew he should probably leave the area, but he just couldn't.  Ellison knew he had a problem when he spent more and more of his off-hours in a guidehouse.  Well, he amended, spending his off-hours in a darkened alley outside a guidehouse was the real problem.  He came to this alley every night; couldn’t help but to come. 

 

Yet he could not bring himself to cross the threshold.  He knew that his status would ensure his welcome, but still, he came no closer.  It was an urge Jim had not resisted for weeks.  His skin tingled in anticipation.  He was waiting.  For what, he wasn't sure, but it caused a distinct rift between him and his contracted wife, Carolyn.

 

Well, ex-contract, he thought.  Carolyn left him this morning.  Hell, she was the only contract he'd ever made.  No one would take the untouchable Ellison.  She was a hell of a person to even try it, the allure of contracting the captain of the guard or not. 

 

Everyone knew but wasn't saying—because who wanted the Alliance breathing down their neck—that Jim Ellison was an unbonded sentinel.  Five years planet-side and he still hadn't found a guide.  It was almost enough for him to consider buying a boat and heading out into the black.

 

Jim wondered if the guides in the house could sense him, wondered if they could feel his need even out here in the dark alley, wondered if they became as restless without the touch of a sentinel as he did without the touch of a guide. 

 

Well, Jim thought, I don't actually need touch with my senses as wide open as they are, but I do need to be close.  Jim tethered his horse loosely, allowing it to be near the water and graze quietly.

 

The stars twinkled brightly in the cloudless sky.  The four moons hovered in their respective places across the horizon, each with the tint of the four mythical gods to which they belonged.  Jim watched silently as the newest guide stepped onto the back porch.  His scent still carried traces of the ship he boarded for Cascadia.  Due to the faint smell of the plasma cannons, he figured it was a Centauri-class ship--more battle-ready than the Gemini, but less maneuverable than the Firefly-class. 

 

As Captain, he should probably tell the king that there was a new guide planet-side, but as an unbonded sentinel, he wanted to see what kind of guide this new man was.  Not many people traveled to Cascadia.  The planet was terra-formed well over a hundred years ago but was so distant from the Core that people just didn't want to travel that far out. 

 

In the past, Cascadia had clearly been an Independent stronghold, keeping as few ties as possible with anything remotely Alliance-tainted, which meant even less Core-support and fewer calls for travel to the planet.  Most likely, however, tangling with the Nine, the descendent regional rulers of that original band of naughty men and women, so the stories go, persuaded the Alliance to stay out of Cascadia's airspace. 

 

The moonlight bathed the new guide in the four colors, blending with his long, curly hair.  Jim sifted through the colors to imagine what the hair must look like in the sun but caught himself before he zoned.  Lean, sturdy body, strong hands, and blue eyes that glowed silvery in the moonlight-Jim had never seen a more beautifully masculine guide in all his travels. 

 

_I can feel you._

 

Jim started at the intrusion in his thoughts.  Looking around wildly, he wondered where the voice originated.  Seeing only his horse and the guide outside, he sent his senses further.

 

_I'm right here.  Won't you come to me?_

 

Jim startled to a halt when the silvery blue gaze turned in his direction.  Jim knew the guide could not see him but was startled at the accuracy of his gift.  Jim focused his thoughts as guide-Incacha taught him while stranded on the moon Chopec. 

 

_Who are you?_

 

The guide walked away from Jim's position to the bathing pools.  Stripping his clothes, he washed in the cool water before replying.

 

_I am guide-Blair, son of Naomi._

 

Jim watched as guide-Blair flowed out of the bathing pools and into the warmer relaxation pool.  Jim was lost in his admiration before realizing precisely what Blair had said.

 

_You're the son of the Mage-Queen?_

 

Blair leaned his head back against the stone ledge, his mind-voice tired.

 

_I am._

 

Jim felt conflicted.  As captain, he had to tell King Simon that Queen Naomi's son was planet-side.  As part of a mutual non-aggression pact, Darryl, Simon's son, was supposed to inherit both provinces upon his marriage to Queen Naomi‘s niece.  But that was before Blair had been found.  Blair, who had left the planet fourteen years earlier to study on Rainier, would now be able to inherit his mother's province provided that he discontinued being a guide.  As a sentinel and man, however, Jim did not want to move from his spot unless it was closer to the relaxation pool and the naked guide it held.

 

The eyes did not open, but the voice returned.

 

_Will you not come closer?_

 

Jim spent a brief moment thinking about the heat and tranquility offered in that voice, discreetly adjusted himself and replied--

 

_No.  I have to go._

 

Thinking of unappetizing things like the newest recruit from the province of Southland who kept wearing bright colors, refused to wear sensible boots, and had the shrillest voice which clawed down the captain's spine daily, Jim swung carefully onto his horse, hearing the near to sleep mind-voice again.

 

_Be well, Captain Ellison, we will meet again soon._

 

As Ellison reached his now-empty quarters in the fortress, he berated himself for not taking guide-Blair's offer.  It wasn't that he couldn't perform with another person, because Carolyn would not have contracted with him otherwise, but without a guide, it was not often enough for a contract to be fruitful or happy.  This left the lonely Captain with a string of unhappy affairs that lasted too briefly, or, in the case of that ill-attempted contract to Carolyn, an affair that lasted entirely too long.  Taking off his light leather armor and doeskin gauntlets, Jim washed at the side-basin in his room.

 

His quarters were opulent as befitting his station, though not as ornate as Simon's rooms.  Jim smiled at the irony of Simon having more ornate quarters.  Jim preferred soft materials and sparse but varied decorations in his room.  Simon, however, only kept the rooms out of respect for his late wife.  If Simon had his way, he'd still be captain of the guard protecting the planet from outsiders and more importantly, protecting the people within his province.  Out of the nine kings and queens of Cascadia, Simon was one of the most beloved, nearly equal to Naomi. 

 

Jim smiled.  Even the titles were reminiscent of Earth-that-was.  But in all his travels before U-Day, he never came across any stories about sentinels, bonded or not, on Earth-that-was until he reached Chopec.  Stranded by his then commander’s betrayal, Jim spent U-Day unconscious in the meditation chambers of Chopec’s only guidehouse, attended by its Shaman Incacha.  Incacha had told him of the many sentinels and guides who lived throughout many ages on Earth-that-Was. 

 

On the outer planets, Independent planets, sentinels existed in secret.  The guidehouses alone survived and served publicly, but their lore was unspoken outside that of a house.  After U-Day, after the Alliance had crushed the Browncoats, rumors of current-day unbonded sentinels were all about those unlucky Independent bastards caught by Alliance Keepers.  Jim shuddered at his involuntary thoughts of the Keepers.

 

Alliance rule stated that all unbonded sentinels were to report to the Keepers on Osiris for training.  Alliance rule also stated that bonded sentinels were put to death alongside the guides who dared to bond with them.  In all Jim’s years, he had yet to hear of a still-living bonded pair being known to the Alliance.  Jim's father, Core-bred that he was, uncharacteristically hid his son's abilities under an iron will that would not bend.  As a child, Jim hated his father for it, but as an adult, Jim knew he owed his freedom and his very life to the man's sensibility. 

 

Before his mission to Chopec, Jim saw a brief glimpse of an Alliance-kept sentinel on a diplomatic mission to Rainier.  Reading her history on the cortex, he learned that Alex had been sent to the Keepers as a child and was utterly and horribly indoctrinated into a mindless organic laboratory.  Rumor had it; she was the reason Blair went missing and was presumed dead.  Parliament had never let her bond and used her abilities to their limits in the furthering of their research into creating better worlds.  Her eyes were so dull that Jim allowed her safe passage, never believing she was capable of the destruction on Rainier just a few short years later. 

 

Jim wondered at the true strength of the guides in their houses.  They functioned as a counterpoint to both the Alliance and the Companions.  Yet neither group sought to usurp their place in polite society.  Jim wondered if the Alliance hadn’t tried to create their own guides or sentinels.  If those experiments might have been what created the Companion houses in the beginning.  Even worse, Jim thought, if they tried to create a guide/sentinel hybrid.  Jim shuddered again, thinking that Alex might have been one of the results of one of those experiments. 

 

Satisfied at his cleanliness, although a bit disconcerted at his woolgathering, Jim looked at his choices in his small larder cabinet.  Choosing three from the many bottles, he sprinkled the powder from each upon a good-sized platter.  He closed his eyes and concentrated, reciting the words Queen Naomi taught him long ago.  Smiling, he opened his eyes when the smell of his dinner reached his nose. 

 

She was an amazing woman, a woman he might have considered contracting, had she not been so far above his station.  An unlikely situation, though socially acceptable, would have been entirely unbearable once his sentinel abilities re-surfaced.  He had not loved her, but when did love have anything to do with a contract?  Companionship and compatibility were all that mattered in a contract these days.  She was alluring, but something about her put his sentinel senses off even beyond the differing stations.  Being near her made him gave him the discomfort of a dish missing one spice, or of his furniture being moved a few inches when they took his broken chair.  Most of the sensation was correct, but something was missing.   

 

His dinner finished, Jim stripped for bed.  Snuffing the candles, he crawled into the soft sheets and blankets.  In the distance, a lone wolf howled, too near to the township for Jim to ignore.  Jim hated to trap the wolf, but couldn't allow its pack into the territory without some ground rules being set.

 

The wolf's howl continued, however, keeping Jim from his sleep.  As he drifted closer, he felt sense memories of the new guide float closer to the edges of his mind.  He still hadn't decided whether to tell the king of Blair's return or not; duty be damned.  However, as the guide's mother, the queen would necessarily need to be told immediately, if only to appease her heartache, and if he told her, he would then have to tell his king.  The guide sounded so tired though.  Jim wondered if telling them would be good for Blair.  Surely, they wouldn't descend upon him in the middle of the night.  Jim slung an arm across his eyes pondering how to give the guide what he needed.  

 

Sighing, Jim swung his legs out from under the covers and walked to his desk.  Noticing the single sheet left out, he read Carolyn's, hopefully, last missive. 

 

She would keep his secret, hoped he found a worthy guide, and for gods' sakes would he get the tattoo covered or magically erased before it got him into trouble? 

 

Jim smiled at her words.  She was a good woman.  She definitely deserved better than a scarred, battle-worn soldier for a husband. 

 

Pulling a quill from its holder, he returned to his task, dipping the quill into the inkpot at his right.  Composing his words carefully, he sprinkled sand upon the partially dry ink.  Blowing away the excess, he folded the parchment, sealed it with a bit of the still-liquid wax, imprinting his personal, unofficial seal upon it.  Waving his hand, he recited yet more words from the beautiful queen and picked up both letters--the original, and the one created by her magic.  Mindful of his nearly undressed state, for it wouldn't do to have gossipmongers spreading rumors about the castle, he opened the door only slightly and called the night-servant to the entrance of his quarters. 

 

Her eyes widened at the sight of his bare arm, and he cursed silently at his haste, drawing undue attention to his task.  The oddness of the night servant’s frozen state drew Jim‘s attention to her shyness and small form.  He glanced around the hallway for witnesses, drawing her gently into the room, stifling his first impulse to growl at her gawking at his bare chest and the half-faded tattoo that graced it.  She was new to the castle and couldn't be any more than seventeen years.  Releasing his frustration with a sigh, he gentled his tone. 

 

"I need you to deliver this to the king." 

 

She was still staring, and he cursed himself again for his foolishness, not to mention impropriety.  While he enjoyed appreciation from the opposite sex, he did not like his partners quite so young.  He would not harm her, but others might. 

 

"Child, look at me," he said sternly, pointing to his face.  When her eyes finally strayed upward, he continued, "What is your name and who decided your shift?"

 

"VanZandt did, milord Captain."  She said, dropping her eyes to her feet, "and my name is Stacey."

 

The captain stifled another curse.  He wondered who paid VanZandt for his 'scheduling' abilities. 

 

"Stacey."  He captured her attention again.  "I want you to take this," he pointed to one of the letters he held, "directly to the king's quarters, use the hall behind the tapestry of Xian-le.  You know where that is?"  At her timid nod, he continued, "Slip it under the door at the end of the tunnel and go back to your room.  I want you to lock the door.  Okay, honey?"

 

She nodded, and visibly steeled herself for something, and Jim had a sinking feeling in his stomach at what she was about to broach. 

 

"Captain, sir?"

 

"Jim, honey."  Jim leaned against the doorframe.  "I won't be formal in my own quarters."

 

"Do you think I could serve you?"  She took a deep breath and rushed forward.  "I mean, I won't be any trouble, and I'm sure to be, um, pleasing and..."

 

Jim hid the burst of nausea her words brought, wondering who else she'd been forced to serve. 

 

"We'll talk about it in the morning, okay?  I promise I'll take care of you.” Jim thought for a moment, walked back to his desk adding a few lines to the outside of the envelope.  “Just go do exactly what I've asked and don't forget to lock your door.  Use the words Sally taught you."  Stacey looked up sharply at the last, her eyes locked with the captain's.

 

"Yes, M-m'lord Jim."  She said, taking the sealed parchment from him and curtseying clumsily.

 

"Jim.  And Stacey?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Don't tell anyone about anything tonight.  Not this."  He pointed to his tattoo.  "Nor about my questions or your errand.  Okay?"

 

"Yes, m- Jim."

 

Listening for others in the area, Jim watched her dart to the tapestry across the hall and a few measures to the left of his door.  Jim was glad he'd found the passageway as a young man while serving under Simon when the former guardsman's father-in-law ruled.  It was particularly useful during the attempted coup of Garett Kincaid, the youngest son of a minor nobleman from the southern part of the province.  Satisfied that she was safely on her errand Jim closed the door. 

 

Crossing his arms, he tapped the Queen's letter on his bicep, while struggling with his thoughts concerning Blair.  He wondered if the guide would be angry that his mother was notified.  He couldn't imagine why Blair would come directly to this province when his mother's also boasted a guidehouse.  Jim rolled his shoulders in annoyance.  He had too much to do without worrying about Blair or his mother's feelings.  Concentrating, he muttered the words that allowed the mail to be sent the mail directly to the queen's working chambers.  By sending the letters this way, he could at least give the tired guide the night to rest.

 

Keeping an ear on Stacey's progress, Jim focused his thoughts toward the guidehouse just past the northwestern part of the palace complex. 

 

_Blair?_

 

_Yes, Captain Ellison?_

_I had to tell your mother you were here.  I also informed Simon._

 

Jim could feel the resignation from Blair, so he quickly added-

 

_But they won't get the notice until morning._

 

_Thank you for your kindness, Captain Ellison.  It's been a long journey._

 

_Please, call me Jim._

 

Desperate to keep the connection, Jim said the first thing that came to mind-

 

_Your eyes remind me of my mother._

 

Jim turned red at his idiocy.  He could almost hear the chuckle in Blair's mind when the young man responded.

 

_Is that good or bad, Jim?_

 

Jim shook his head, not responding to Blair's question.

 

_Are you bonded?_

 

_Yes._

 

Jim recoiled, almost as if struck.  He didn't know what to do with that information, but it made his dinner attempt a reappearance.  He shoved the feelings down, asking his next question with more coldness than he'd previously shown.

 

_Why are you back, Guide Blair?_

 

Jim could feel Blair bristling, but it felt half-hearted at best.

 

_I don't want the province, if that's what you're worried about, Jim._

 

_Didn't cross my mind, Guide Blair.  Goodnight._

 

Jim cut their connection and blocked his mind in the way Incacha taught him.  Blair was bonded.  A faint wisp of betrayal threaded through his mind.  Unwilling to dwell upon his unsettled feelings any longer, he re-focused his hearing towards Stacy.  Upon hearing the locking words, and more importantly her easy vitals, he drifted into a restless sleep. 

 

The morning began entirely too early for the captain, his dreams half-filled with dazed sentinels, marching Alliance boots, and the bluest eyes he knew belonged to Blair.  After a hasty breakfast of dry toast and tasteless tea, he casually entered the practice grounds.  Only a few recruits were out this early.  He nodded to his sergeant, who hurried to rouse the rest of Jim’s men from their breakfasts. 

 

Hiding his foul mood came easy during practice. A spot on the King’s Guard had to be earned annually and was hand-picked by the Captain—mostly after several months-worth of training and individual sparring.  Jim would not take anything for granted concerning his liege’s life.  This year, Henri, Rafe, and Joel were still in top form, so they would most likely keep their positions.  Jack’s spot was open, however, because he ended up working a job with the Higgins family on Canton.  Jim couldn’t blame Jack though, the place he earned there was sweet indeed, and he’d had fair dealings with the family in the past.

 

Although the province had been entirely peaceful for the past year, that never stopped the threat of raiders or even some of the minor noblemen from getting ideas. At least the Reavers were gone.  Jim couldn’t imagine what his senses would have done when confronted with a raging cannibal.

 

Jim wiped his brow before throwing the latest in a line of new recruits to the ground.  For the hundredth time, he wished he could take off his shirt in the heat, but he could not risk it.  Silencing speculation wasn't very hard, the people of the province knew they owed the captain much for quelling the Sunrise Patriot rebellion, but to give the people absolute proof would be asking too much, deep-rooted distrust of the Alliance or not. 

 

Everyone had gotten waves about what happened when an unbonded sentinel, Alex, ran rampant at Rainier.  Not only did she massacre an entire guidehouse, but also robbed several vaults before being overcome with sensory input.  It was rumored that the last guide she killed, who was now miraculously living, had done something to her.  Jim wondered how Blair managed to stay alive when forty other guides had died that day.

 

Jim's wandering thoughts left him open to attack.  The captain took a hit in the side before he disarmed his opponent, dropping the recruit to the ground.  A shrill chuckle hit his ears.  Groaning inwardly, he looked down to see the female guard that annoyed him the most out of last year’s recruits. 

 

She was smart, quick, but was likely to cut her own foot off with a long-blade, not to mention having a laugh that could reach the Core in its shrillness. She was hell on a short-blade though and was also loyal to Simon in a way most recruits weren’t.  Jim didn’t know the details, Megan Connor came from several provinces to the south of Cascadia, but he knew her captain had made some sort of deal with his king.  So, grating on his nerves or not, he was stuck with her until the deal was completed.  Unfortunately, she was also turning out to be the most qualified to fill Jack’s position within the King’s Guard, so it was not like Jim could place her mucking out stalls, or scouting as far away from his hearing as possible. 

 

"Something got your knickers in a twist, Captain?"  She was grinning most likely in response to the hit she scored as his thoughts wandered.

 

"Back off, Connor,” Jim growled.  “You're still the one on the ground."

 

"Not through much effort on your part, Sir."  She smirked.  A warning horn sounded, which Jim knew signified a single rider at the gate.

 

"That doesn't say much for you, does it?  Get up."  Jim ordered, giving her a hand.  "Take the newest thirty and run the forest gauntlet.  I want everyone finished and cleaned up by the noon bell."

 

"You don't ask for much, do you?"  She grumbled, but he could see she was pleased by his trust.

 

He could hear her barking orders as he swung up onto the back of his waiting horse.  He turned towards the outlying gate.  The sun was shining brightly now, but he could smell the rain a few hours out.  Jim smiled evilly.  They would be hitting the wire-crawl right about the same time the storm hit.  Jim slowed his horse as he neared the gates.  Sending his senses outward, Jim cataloged the visitor before motioning the sentries to open the gate.  Dismounting from his horse, Jim waited patiently for the massive iron doors to be pulled open. 

 

Jim was right.  The guide's hair was practically sparkly to his senses under the midmorning sun.   A brief mental caress from Blair snapped Jim out of the near-zone, which served to annoy the captain.    

 

"Your papers?" Jim held out his hand.

 

"No need.  The king sent for him, sir." The guard at the gate interrupted.  "This is Guide-Blair, son of Queen Naomi."

 

Jim looked at the hapless guard in annoyance, who wisely refrained from speaking again.

 

"I trust you'll see me directly to King Simon?" 

 

Blair's voice soothed Jim's irritation at the lack of communication from his king.  However, it did little to appease the helpless want Jim suffered at having Blair mere inches away in the brilliant sunshine. 

 

Jim slapped both sets of reins into the guardsman's chest without turning.  "We'll walk."

 

Blair smiled graciously. "Of course, Captain."

 

As soon as they were out of earshot, Jim asked the question foremost in his mind. "Where is your sentinel?"

 

"What makes you think he's not here?"

 

"I can't smell them on you."

 

"You know very little of guides if you think I wouldn't know how to conceal my sentinel from others."

 

Blair’s intentional slip, because as a trained guide Blair would be well aware of the possible consequences of each spoken word, caught up to Jim‘s conscious attention.

 

"He?"

 

"Yes, Captain Ellison, my sentinel is male.  Does that bother you?"

 

"No." Taking a meandering route around the grounds--guide or not, no one should have a direct path to the king--Jim's jaw clenched the words he might say while Blair rambled on about the differences between the various Core planets’ security and the provincial militias the outlying Independent planets preferred.  After the fourth such story, a simple glare from Jim silenced the guide.  Jim realized the stories were a part of the guide’s way to adapt or manipulate a situation and the captain wanted no part of it.  Jim did, however, covertly watch as Blair took in the courtyard with its practicing guardsmen.  He smiled inwardly at the subtly impressed look upon Blair’s face. 

 

Just as Jim's senses predicted, the clouds rolled in; a light drizzle followed, cooling the air considerably as they reached the entrance to the main hall.  Simon would have been informed of Blair’s arrival at the gate.  However, the king would most likely be waiting for them in his private working chambers.   

 

The furniture was much like the man—plain, comfortable, and solid.  Simon’s only extravagances in the room were the comfortable chair behind the carved oak desk and the elaborate number of screens in front of many sofas and chairs.  Simon, the king, could literally watch any number of news programs—legitimate or underground—to keep abreast of any movement in Alliance forces.  And Simon, the former guardsman, could watch any and all sporting events throughout the known ‘verse.  Simon also held a fondness for cigars and although not in this room, had quite a collection in an attached climate-controlled locker.    

 

"I asked him to come, Jim.” Simon pre-empted Jim’s first words.  “Naomi assured me that he didn't want the two provinces, but I wanted to meet Blair in person.  Sometimes a message doesn't convey the clear truth."  The last was said with the distinct bite of ire. 

 

“You were asleep, Sire,” Jim said formally.  “It was black as night when Blair arrived, and I was assured that he did not want to stir anything up politically.”  I also, of course, found out that he was bonded to another sentinel, Jim thought bitterly, but held his tongue. 

 

_Wrong word._

 

_Get out of my head._

 

_Jim._

 

_I mean it._

_Jim, I’m not bonded to another sentinel._

_You said?_

 

_You assumed._

“Gentlemen?” Simon sounded cross, but a distinct twinkle was in his eye.  “Something you’d like to share?”

 

“Ah, no, King Simon.”  Blair shifted slightly towards Jim.  “If you need a confirmation, I really don’t want either province let alone both.”

 

Simon nodded, breaking into a broad smile. “Right.  Early lunch?  Joel’s wife made some mighty fine chili.”  Simon glanced at Blair.  “It’s real meat.  Are you okay with that?”

 

“Not a problem for me, Your Majesty, I‘ve been in the black long enough for protein paste to sound good.” 

 

“Please, it’s Simon.  I get too much of that in Court.”  Simon placed a hand on Blair’s shoulder, pulling him a little in the direction of the kitchen, before releasing him entirely. “The dining area is this way.” 

 

Jim nodded as well, managing to conceal his grimace at Simon’s invitation.  His mind was still puzzling out how Blair wasn’t bonded to another sentinel.  Jim wasn’t entirely happy, but he did manage to keep Simon between them as he pointed out the various points of interest in the castle. 

 

By the time they reached the kitchen, Jim had identified the type of protein, real beef, believe it or not, and the mixture of spices Janice, Joel’s wife, used.  The meal was pleasant, Blair kept the conversation lively.  If Jim was a touch more monosyllabic than usual, Simon didn’t call him on it.  By the time dessert arrived, strawberries with golden cakes and cream, Jim had relaxed into his chair.  Jim unbent enough to tell of the time he caught a kitcher-fish along the Cascadian River. 

 

“Jim that fish gets bigger every time you tell that story.”  Simon laughed.

 

“Simon.”  Jim placed a hand over his heart.  “I’m hurt.  You don’t remember it filling our boat before we pitched it back?”

 

Joel piped up, “I remember you being pitched back, big guy.”

 

They all laughed, but Jim only had eyes for Blair.  This was getting ridiculous. 

 

A sound caught Jim’s attention.  He held up a hand, and everyone immediately quieted.  Jim could hear booted feet running down the corridors. 

 

 


End file.
